


Lullaby

by RadiatorfromSpace



Series: Thirteenth Step [1]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Internal Horror, Late Teen!Thor, Loki is immature for his age, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, NSFW, Past Interpersonal Trauma (References to Past Abuse by an Absent Character), Sibling-incest, Size Difference, Young Teen!Loki, dub-con, moral conflict, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7833553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiatorfromSpace/pseuds/RadiatorfromSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is babysitting his younger brother Loki tonight. They have the house to themselves, parents won't be back until 1AM, and Thor looks at Loki the way he should be looking at girls.</p><p>At girls his own <i>age.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <b>Read the tags.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Laydee-Liesmith](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Laydee_Liesmith/pseuds/Laydee_Liesmith) for beta-reading! Find her on [Tumblr!](http://laydee-liesmith.tumblr.com/)

Their old nanny left years ago, but the body remembers and Loki still shakes sometimes.

Like now in the dim light of the foyer when the train of their mother's coat disappears behind the closing door as she and Odin go out on date night; Loki is suddenly shivering and his hands are tangling in his hair and he's hiccupping and making hurt-sounds deep in his throat.

Thor kneels down and envelops him in arms his football practice has long since thickened. He used to be glad about that because it meant he could throw the ball farther, later he was glad because it meant he could break ribs—now he’s just glad he can protect his little brother. He holds him close as he talks him through it.

“It's Friday, November 4th, 2016; it's just you, me, Mom, and Dad living here now.”

Their nanny used to live with them in the demi-apartment in the basement.

“I'm all around you; nobody's going to hurt you on my watch. I won't let anyone get near you. Can you tell me the date, Lo?”

Loki is still afraid of the basement.

“It's F-Frida-ay,” he hiccups.

“That's right. It's Friday, November—“

“November-er 4th…”

“And the year?”

“It's been five years.”

“Yeah! That makes it?”

“2016,” Loki says, his hands leaving his face and hair to clutch at all he can reach of Thor. “It's been over for five years.”

“She's gone, and I'm _here,_ and I'm _staying._ I'm right here to protect you, Lo.”

Loki starts crying into one of Thor's favorite shirts; Thor would care if it was anyone but Loki, so he holds him tighter.

“I love you no matter what, Lolo,” Thor whispers into his ear. “You can cry. I'm staying.”

He holds him tightly, gently rocking him from side to side.

~

One night years after their old nanny left, Loki sat bolt upright at the dinner table and blurted out what she did to him when no one else was around; then more and more memories spilled forth, and Loki was a terrible mess for months, sad and scared and profoundly insecure and anxious until he broke out in angry red hives all over, couldn’t sleep, and would cry inconsolably for hours at a time. He had to be withdrawn from the public school.

Now two years later, Loki is significantly better: the traces of his trauma are less visible and no longer explosive, but not gone. Frigga has been increasing her hours at work again, although Odin still chooses to miss the same number of games and trips with his fishing buddies as he did in the beginning to spend extra time with Loki. He's worked hard on controlling his shouting, too. Loki has progressed enough that some nights their parents argue about re-enrolling him in the public school (when Loki is asleep and Thor is not).

His recovery is an amount of time Thor counts in the number of books he and his parents devoured; the times the fake leather on his first car’s steering groaned under his hands when he drove Loki to his sessions with Dr. Eir; the sheer hollowness Thor _became_ when Loki told him his memories of crying alone because he thought no one would believe him; and the headaches back in the beginning when all four of them had to rearrange their schedules to come to family sessions every week.

Then add the comments and looks Thor gets when he turns down hanging out with his friends on Saturday nights, in favor of babysitting his baby brother—a nervous boy in a growing body who still carries his stuffed horse around with him, a toy most kids his age would have outgrown years ago.

In the deepening blue of their backyard tonight, Thor throws the football to Loki for the last time; the days are growing shorter and it is now too dark to tell a football from a rock in their backyard. Loki comes running back to him with the football, his glowing white skin, the flush in his cheeks, and the brightness of his eyes. Stretching from ear to ear is the easy, happy smile he shines with when he's in the moment in this tiny, familiar world populated by just the two of them. Even their mom likes to comment with an eye-roll, “Six hours in labor and the _brother's_ his favorite.”

Thor smiles down at him and rubs his hands over Loki's bare, spindly arms to bring warmth to the goose-pimpled skin. Maybe if Mom let Loki go outside without a winter coat once in a while...

“We had a good time, Lo. Time to go inside now!”

He picks Loki up and seats him on his hip. He carries him like this out of the cool evening and toward the golden light shining through the kitchen windows.

Thor is considering putting off college for a year or two. He'd like to stick around to see Loki through his first couple years in public school, if possible. Loki sometimes calls him in tears when Thor is away on overnight football trips, and being powerless to hold him while being in the same state hurts enough.

At the kitchen table, they sit side by side and Thor drapes an arm over Loki's shoulders as they look over the current assignment in Loki's workbook. Schoolwork was hard for him in the beginning, but since the summer he's been picking up speed; he is now one grade above his age, and well ahead in all subjects at that. But this homework is from Dr. Eir: she's been sending Loki home with worksheets and books to fill out at home so he can practice without her, in a more authentic location.

Thor is proud of him.

“So write down the situation and the emotions you felt,” Thor reads aloud to him although Loki doesn't need that kind of help. “And rate how intensely you felt those things.”

Loki's pencil moves quietly across the answer field while Thor waits.

“You wrote...” Thor trails off. “What kind of thinking error was that, Lo?”

Loki fills in the next blank space labeled “Error Type/Mental Mistake”.

“Now rate the intensity of your feelings again. What's the difference?”

“6...now 2.”

“That's good. That was pretty high.”

The workbooks are designed to help Loki practice skills for managing his anxiety and what Dr. Eir calls “maladaptive cognitions”—harmful beliefs and thought-patterns, like Loki at once both believing both that he was unlovable after what happened and that it happened _because_ something about him was bad and deserving of it. He can never name what that bad thing is, but the thought keeps returning, although nowadays far more quietly than it once did.

Loki is so clever, his brain is like a sponge. But Dr. Eir says you have to practice these skills, sometimes for a very long time.

Suddenly, a guttural growl comes from the mudroom, and Thor reflexively begins rubbing Loki's arm even though nowadays Loki only occasionally twitches at their dog's daily vocals. The growl is a long one, followed by a short series of vicious barks. Thor watches Loki’s face—not even a flinch today—but Thor still pulls him a touch closer.

“One of the neighborhood joggers,” Thor murmurs to him. He calls out to their dog: “Scaring off some nasty blinking sneakers, Meow-Meow?”

It's a running joke in the family how overprotective she is.

Thor squeezes Loki against him until his arm shakes. Loki looks up at him, curious, and Thor shakes his head.

“Just wanted to hug you.”

Thor feels her glowering presence before he sees her. She lingers in the darkened doorway in the far corner of the kitchen, silent, inscrutable, but chilling. She started having these— _changes_ —moods?—since Loki’s last birthday: most often she is her normal warm, protective self, but, increasingly, someone else whose presence makes Thor instinctively check that he can reach Loki if something bad happens, and if he already can, to pull him closer. It’s hard to describe but it—it makes his fingers shake.

Sometimes his nightmares wake him in the middle of the night, and he pads barefoot down the hall to peer into Loki’s bedroom, silently but his chest is loud and full with the irrational need to check that his little brother is still safe, still asleep, still breathing.

Meow-Meow no longer sleeps with Thor on those nights; when he opens Loki’s door, her glittering eyes are always there to greet him from the foot of Loki’s mattress. 

Between Thor at the door, and where Loki lies, defenseless.

Thor doesn't look up when he hears Meow-Meow padding across the kitchen tiles to them, and he doesn't blink when thirty pounds of Chow-Chow, more puff than dog, abruptly thrusts herself across both of their laps. Loki releases a little squeal and gives her sides an eager rubbing while Thor settles one gentle hand over her head and runs his thumb along the velvet edge of one ear. Meow-Meow's been getting some leg problems in her golden years and Thor isn't keen about sheering, combing, and doing dog physical therapy with her all the time, but she's Loki's right-hand puff when he's away, so he does.

Suddenly, Meow-Meow jerks her head out from beneath Thor's hand and has to sniff him again; Thor holds his hand out and lets her. She gives him a long look with those black, beady eyes that have been making Thor’s skin prickle since Loki’s last birthday.

They are cute eyes, Thor thinks, until you notice they are unreadable. Then you can't stop noticing it.

“Only two more pages, Lo,” he says, pulling his gaze away from her. “Let's finish up.”

He raises his hand from Loki's shoulder to stroke his hair, slowly, from crown to the long, curling ends Loki refused to let their mother cut since Thor grew his out and Loki decided to copy him.

Slowly, Meow-Meow lowers her head onto Thor's thigh and lets him pet her again. 

She does not close her eyes.

“And now...pick something you're worried about,” Thor reads aloud. “If it does occur, what's the worst case scenario? What are you able to do about it after the worst possible outcome happens?”

Loki moves his pencil to the answer field and begins to write. Thor hopes Loki will be as calm and able to do this when he can no longer sit here beside him.

Loki finishes the page and tilts his head back to rest on Thor’s elbow. The overhead light is a glowing streak down his slender throat.

“I’m getting hungry,” Loki says. 

“You want me to start dinner while you finish up? Okay.” Thor carefully gets up to avoid banging Meow-Meow's head into the table. He runs a hand lightly over Loki's little shoulders again and goes to preheat the oven. He greases a baking pan, grabs the bag of smiley fries off the island, and starts laying a couple of servings of the fries down on it.

He brought the bag of frozen smiley fries up from the downstairs freezer before their parents left because Loki gets upset if Thor goes down there when no one else is in the house, as if Thor won't be coming back.

As if he'll come back as someone else.

The pale yellow fries smile vacantly up at him as he slides the pan into the oven. The heat is already rising in waves off the oven the rack and warping their single, shared expression, before it begins to cook all the little faces. Then he tears open the vegetable medley and General Tso’s prepared dinner and puts it in the microwave.

“You seeing Helblindi and Bylestir this weekend?” Thor asks, still standing before the oven. Frigga and Odin made arrangements with the Laufeys to help Loki keep up socializing with kids his own age after he was withdrawn from public school. Now Loki regularly sees a small handful of playmates, most often the Laufeyson brothers, who treat Loki well and never tease him. Which is good for everyone, because otherwise Thor would send them back to their mother with broken ribs.

“We’re going to Six Flags on Sunday!!!”

Thor laughs. _Cute._ “You guys are going to have a lot of fun! Are you bringing Meow-Meow?”

“They don’t allow dogs,” Loki says, his pout clear in his voice. “And she’s too old to walk for that long, anyway…”

It doesn’t take much to cook these fries: Thor holds his thumb against the oven light as he peers in through the stained oven window, watching the textured skin of the faces brown and bubble or split, spray, and shrivel. When one bursts, it spatters water droplets everywhere which sizzle loudly when they hit the heated metal. Yet the holes for the eyes remain perfectly intact. 

When Thor sets their plates down side by side on the table, it is a pretty display of colors—the vibrant, glistening red of the chicken, the greens and yellows of the vegetables, and the mottled fries—and they dig in.

Thor stares down at his plate as he chews: they are no longer smiling.

~

Later after they have cleaned away most of their dinner, Loki is on the cuddle-offensive: he's _technically_ still on his own chair, but he's inched it right flush against Thor's, and Loki is progressively melding into the contours of Thor's side while Thor texts his friends. He’s a normally a cuddler or a bit of a clinger, but he always seems to become a physical _appendage_ whenever any two members of their family are away, and Thor already knows Loki will be rooted to his lap all through the movie later. But Thor thinks it's cute and he wraps an arm around Loki to placate him (for a little while). Soon, Loki is swatting at Thor's phone with the same irritation as he would a very distracting and useless house fly.

When Loki starts really going for the phone, Thor texts Steve, Fandral, and Sif that he'll talk to them after he's put Loki to bed in a couple of hours.

He puts his phone face-down on the table and wraps both arms around Loki, making him happy and he squirms a little closer. Thor looks down and blows softly on the fine, black, flyaway hairs on Loki’s crown. He thinks Loki looks his cutest when he's cuddled up like this with him on his lap, but Thor is deeply biased. He adjusts his angle so he’s blowing into Loki’s ear until Loki squeals and yelps and tries to fight his way out of Thor’s bear hug, and jabs his bony elbows into his ribs as punishment until Thor lets him go, the both of them giggling.

Then Loki tucks back into his side, and Thor wraps both arms securely around him. He will kill for Loki’s sake, if needed.

“You're all finished? We'll put our stuff in the dishwasher and watch the movie, okay?” 

Loki turns his face up and beams at him, the sheer intensity of his smile rounding his cheeks and making him glow.

He loves Thor so.

~

The only light in the family room is the silver glow of the TV, which washes over Thor and Loki where they sit huddled together on the couch. Loki is watching the movie and Thor’s head is echoing with Dr. Eir’s praises – “He’s on board with the plan” – because they should be butting heads at their respective ages, but he never teases Loki about all the touch and soothing he needs, or about him carrying around his stuffed horse, or how Loki so loves to sit in his lap while sucking on Thor’s fingers. None of it makes Thor blink.

That last one makes Thor stare.

Meanwhile, Meow-Meow is lying on the loveseat, her head pillowed on her front paws, as her glittering eyes bore into Thor.

Loki tends to do it when he’s nervous—or that _used_ to be when he’d do it; lately, Loki just grabs Thor’s hand, pops his fingers into his mouth, and sucks. Ideally when he’s seated on Thor’s lap and has wrestled Thor’s free arm around him just the way he wants it. Loki always wants Thor to surround him.

Dr. Eir, Mom, and Dad have tried to discourage Loki’s habit a few times, but Mom and Dad have let it slide at home again—Loki puts up too much of a fight and he doesn’t do it in public, so…

But apparently Loki also wants Thor inside him if the finger sucking is any clue. And it’s not just any fingers, though: always two, and always Thor’s index and middle finger at the same time. 

He wants Thor inside him.

Shifting uneasily, Thor tries to squash that thought.

They’re almost too big for his little mouth. 

A lot of things are too big for that mouth.

One time, Thor broke Loki’s favorite two fingers during a game and had to wear a cast. He remembers the first time Loki hopped onto his lap after Thor came home from the doctor’s office, his eyes had gone all wide and wet when Thor told him he couldn’t suck on them until the cast came off.

_“Don’t cry! I’ve still got my right hand, right?” Thor said, flexing his good hand to show Loki._

_“But they’re not those ones,” Loki said._

_“They’re the same! Still me, same fingers, just my other hand,” Thor explained, holding the offered fingers before Loki’s mouth._

_“Lo,” Frigga coaxed, “maybe this is a good time to stop sucking on your brother’s fingers. Wouldn’t you feel proud if you didn’t need to anymore?”_

_But Loki recoiled and buried his face in Thor’s armpit until she gave up and left. Then he tried sucking on a lock of Thor’s hair, and his bicep, and his thumb, before finally settling upon sucking a wet spot into Thor’s shirt._

_Eventually Thor got him to try his right hand, but only by letting Loki sleep with him in his bed some nights. Thor would drift off to the sensation of Loki’s needy mouth alternating between his index and middle, middle and ring, and ring and little fingers and back again, like none of them were enough._

Thor tells himself he just doesn’t want to make Loki cry.

But it’s like the rest of Thor’s world becomes dark when Loki sucks on his fingers—and it’s even worse when Thor thinks of trying to stop him: then he cannot breathe. But when he lets him, it is always hell, like now when they are alone together, Loki has plastered himself against his chest, and his spit dribbles down Thor’s knuckles, Thor’s free arm wrapped around his hips and his stuffed horse; snug and surrounded in his big brother’s touch.

Happiest when he’s seated precisely where Thor cannot have him or else one day soon Thor will be disowned and thrown in jail. 

No one he knows will ever look at him again.

Meow-Meow’s gaze is as hard as two fingertips mashed into the meat of his cheek.

_Except Meow-Meow…_

Thor has dreams about it.

 

They feel better than _anything_ until he wakes up wet with sweat and tears in the middle of the night, when they become nightmares. And in his traitorous head, those nightmares continue to play out, compelling him to sneak barefoot down the hall to his defenseless baby brother’s room as a noxious mixture of dread, nausea, and unutterable want burn like a Molotov cocktail in his chest.

Hating himself and shaking, he would open the door to Loki’s bedroom and stare inside, at the slumbering body in easy reach beneath Grandma’s quilt. It’s like all the pleasure Thor takes in life has been sucked out of everything else and concentrated in Loki. He swears it is like a real gravitational pull, dragging the core of him towards his little brother.

But he is always stopped—he wants to say by love or self-control, and maybe it is a little bit, but it’s mostly Meow-Meow. Who has taken to sleeping at the foot of Loki’s bed every night ever since Loki’s last birthday.

Thor rouses from those heady dreams to a waking horror, from the bone-deep longing in his bedroom to the boundary of Loki’s threshold, where the dog that was his childhood best friend instantly wakes and plants her tense, bristling body directly between him and his brother. 

 

When he stumbles back to his own bedroom, he cries. Sometimes Frigga hears him and comes to check on him. She wraps her arms around him and stops his rocking back and forth; she asks him what is wrong, repeatedly; he cannot tell her, repeatedly. He can tell no one. He can’t even tell Dr. Eir.

Thor has been looking at Loki _differently_ ever since his last birthday—he thinks it's the way he's supposed to be looking at girls or even guys _his own age_ —and isn't.

Hasn't. 

 

``

Somewhere in the background comes the sound of four paws dropping onto the floor and padding swiftly towards the mudroom with an aggravated ‘ruff’. More joggers threatening the driveway, no doubt.

Unblinking, Thor continues to stare at his little brother’s glossy, black locks. He’s so small and sweet—his wrists fit easily in Thor’s hand. Loki shifts on his lap, hugging Thor’s arm to his chest, where Thor can feel his tiny, fluttering heartbeat. Thor wants to kiss him.

“Lo,” he murmurs softly, his gaze fixated upon the sight of his soft exhalations gently moving the hairs on his brother’s head.

He needs to kiss him.

Loki replies without taking his eyes off the screen: he squeezes Thor’s thick forearm and gives a hard, wet suck to his fingers.

It’s like a real, physical gravitational pull tonight. It’s not normally this bad… 

They are all alone tonight, and Loki _loves_ being this close with Thor!

Just one more hour. Then the hour after that.

Parents won’t be back until 1AM.

Thor squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

Loki wants Thor _all_ a r o u n d him.

Thor bites his lip to hold back a whine. He’s so hard, but the angle at which his pants and Loki’s hip are forcing it _hurts_.

“Loki, I want to show you something,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and selecting the folder in which he saves his funny pictures and videos. He opens a video about ten seconds long of one guy throwing a firework into the shower stall where his unsuspecting friend is showering, and hands the phone to Loki. 

As Loki watches, Thor's digs his free hand beneath the waist of his sweatpants, pulls his dick into a non-painful position, and snatches his hand back out. 

Done in under one second—Loki laughs at the video's climax, none the wiser. Much like the poor guy in the shower.

_Thank god…_

But it's not better now, it's worse; it graduates to Problem status because the waistband of his pants does _not_ feel unpleasant and of course Loki chooses right then to snuggle closer, his bottom pressing flush against his crotch. 

He could just turn Loki around right now.

Loki leans back and spreads his thighs wide over Thor’s, bracketing Thor’s knees. 

Thor shakes his head again. 

Warm and _soft_.

It won’t go away.

Loki will get upset if he pushes him off, but he has to do something or else he'll soon have two problems… 

Thor tries to shift Loki sideways and off it, but Loki squirms back to front and center; with the hand not presently enveloped in hot, wet, wanting mouth, he slips it between them and tries to push Loki’s butt to the middle of his thighs, but Loki scoots back. Thor yanks his hand from Loki’s mouth and does it again, this time grabbing the blanket and using it as a barricade between his crotch and Loki’s bum. Loki turns and pulls the blanket out—“Loki, _stop_ ”—and over them both, and presses himself back against him. He reaches for Thor’s hand again and opens his mouth. Thor keeps trying, but Loki is _really_ fighting him on this! If this was some kid from practice, Thor could use his full strength to throw him off, but Loki’s bones are like a bird’s in his hands. He just manages to shove him almost as far as his knees.

Then Loki releases a _wail_ that makes Thor’s eyes sting and his vision blur: then his baby brother twists on his lap to gape at Thor like he doesn’t recognize him, like Thor just tried to leave him at a boarded up gas station in Nowhere, Texas and floored the gas pedal.

Loki hadn’t told anyone what the nanny did to him until two years after she’d gone. 

She’d been their nanny for three years.

All the air is suddenly gone from Thor’s lungs, his arms go limp, and he sags heavily against the couch cushions.

He hears Loki sob and his shrill— _“What did I do wrong?!”_

Thor’s eyelids fall shut; his body suddenly feels too heavy.

“You love me,” Loki says in the quavering tone of someone delivering an argument to a crowded room.

The strength returns to him and he grabs Loki and holds him fast against his chest, rocking him. “I’m sorry,” he sobs into the hair below Loki’s ear. “I’m so sorry, Lo, I love you, I’ll _never_ stop—”

“You tried to get rid of me!” Loki cries. He is bundled fast against Thor’s chest yet he’s shaking. Thor holds him tighter, shaking his head vigorously into Loki’s neck.

“No, _no,_ it was something I just had to do, it had nothing to do with you, Lolo,” he insists, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I promise, Lolo. I love you so much— _so, so, so much!_ —I’d never want to hurt you.”

The tears threatening in Loki’s eyes do come, but Thor holds him even tighter, rocks him harder, and reassures him until he calms down. They have a close cuddle on the couch, grips tight, words flowing, until Loki stops shaking. He believes Thor again. Thor kissed all the tears from his cheeks.

When that ache leaves them, the old one remains in Thor. The blanket has fallen away and Loki’s little body lies out upon his with his thighs splayed over Thor’s hips. With some of the last of his strength, Thor tears his gaze away from his little brother’s eyes and lips, and sits upright on the couch with Loki in his lap, once more.

Loki turns to face the screen again and wriggles backward into his favorite position. He slings Thor’s right arm over his hips and draws Thor’s left hand towards his mouth. At the last moment, Thor stops him.

“Hey…you think you’d like to sit beside me for the rest of the movie?” he asks hopefully, for he can feel that this is the last resource he possesses to get him through this night. “Right tucked up under my arm?”

Loki shakes his head furiously. Thor feels him tighten his hold on his arm. 

“Can you just hop off for a second? I need to get something from my room. I promise I’ll come right back in a few minutes, okay?”

Frowning, Loki gives Thor a suspicious look and clings tighter.

“Then you can sit on my lap again, okay? I just need to—”

“You _love_ me,” Loki repeats, his body tense.

Thor lowers his head, until his forehead rests on Loki’s thin shoulder.

“Please, Lo,” he whispers. “It’s important.”

No. The fingers go back into Loki’s mouth and his bum settles back onto Thor’s lap. The covetous sucking of a brother who wants him inside resumes and Thor’s skin prickles with cold despite the warm body pressed against his front.

Loki watches the movie; Thor watches the vague colors and vaguer shapes.

“Why…” His voice cracks and he has to swallow. “Why do you always suck on my fingers?”

The sucking pauses. Loki mumbles through his fingers: “Because you’re my favorite.”

Thor smiles and butts his cheek against the side of Loki’s head.

“I meant why _those_ fingers, Lolo.”

Then the fingers come out with a wet ‘pop’ and Loki turns to him to answer, frowns, and closes his mouth.

“I don’t know!” he says, squirming right against It on Thor’s lap. “Because they feel good inside.” 

Thor just stares at him, his eyes and lids grown heavy the moment he said that. The pretty blush on Loki’s cheeks; the reappearing hollows in his cheeks now that Thor’s fingers are back in; the way he looks at Thor.

He leans in and nuzzles against the apple of Loki’s cheek.

“I feel good inside you?”

“Yeah,” Loki murmurs.

He _presses_ his fingers into Loki’s mouth this time, nudges them just a little deeper into that welcoming mouth. But that tongue slides around his fingers, wrapping around the thickness of them and delving into the groove between them, exploring him.

The way those thin lips are stretched around them—a _lot_ of things are too big for that mouth.

“Say it again.”

He pulls out just a little, then pushes back in even deeper, like in his dreams. Loki smiles up at him, like in his dreams. He pulls Thor in deeper with a hard suck, then lets him go to answer.

“You…feel good inside me. …I want…more.”

Thor is gone.

“Hey,” he whispers softly in his little brother’s ear, “do you want a lullaby?”

Loki perks up at this. He turns to look at Thor over his shoulder and nods eagerly, his big, green eyes bright and his little, pink lips stretched around his fingers once more.

Thor draws Loki closer. 

“Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”

It’s a nice lullaby, except Thor is gently thrusting his hips against Loki’s backside in time with the song.

“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall; down will come baby, cradle and all…”

Loki hums along and cuddles closer. It creates more warmth and friction and Thor immediately, unthinkingly, clamps down, tightening his hold and forcing Loki’s hips flush against him; he isn’t being gentle anymore.

Everything else melts away in the heat of that lovely crush, heady relief as he bucks against Loki. He tries to suppress his moans but he can’t be sure he is succeeding; it is intense, a great wave washing over him and catching him up in the tide, and altogether too easy to slip into mindless rutting and enjoying, while Loki sucks his fingers like cock. He wants to get them deeper; he starts thrusting his hips harder.

Loki always craves his touch—he sucks on Thor’s fingers because being surrounded by him isn’t enough; he needs Thor inside him just as much as Thor needs to be there. Thor releases a high groan into the hair behind Loki’s ear and begins to kiss hungrily at his ear and the back of his neck.

“Baby is drowsing, cozy and fair; Mother sits near in her rocking chair,” he manages to sing. His voice is trembling and punctuated by the noises he can’t hold back. “Fuck, Lolo, you’re so beautiful... Forward and back, the…cradle she swings… Lo, suck me. _Harder._ ”

Loki looks at Thor curiously for a second, but he sucks harder, and shifts his hips That Way again—the one that made Thor groan a second ago—and watches his face.

Thor turns his head back to the TV with a murmur and a kiss. Then he uses his free hand to yank down the hem of his sweatpants and pull his cock free. It is _slick_ from pre-cum as he presses it directly against Loki’s backside and pulls those little hips tightly against him and begins to thrust again. He gasps at how much better it is already, then releases a startled moan when he Loki’s shirt rides up and he finds his cock sliding against his brother’s warm, bare skin.

He wraps his arm around Loki’s middle again to steady them both, but his thrusts are now fast and wild, completely out of beat with the song he’s trying to keep singing for Loki. He’s blissed out, everything hazy except wonderful things that stand out with beautiful clarity, like when Loki hugs his arms close and begins moving his butt backwards in time with Thor’s thrusts, god knows why or if _it’s all in his head._

Weak and unraveled, Thor gives a deep groan against Loki’s neck, savoring how much Loki needs him too. He watches dazedly as a line of drool rolls down his veiny forearm—that needy, warm, little mouth is sucking hard on his fingers, getting him all nice and wet so he can slide inside where they both need him to be.

“You’re such a good boy, Lo, everyone loves you…so…so much, brother…” he whimpers helplessly into Loki’s neck. “Rock-a-bye baby, do not you fear; never mind, baby…Mother is… _Lolo_ …”

Loki makes a happy sound and mumbles through Thor’s fingers, “When you hold me tight— _I love it_ …brother.”

This hits Thor like a truck, and flings him headlong towards coming, amplifying the goodness of each addictive sensation until he sees white and his cum is spattering between the crush of their bodies, and Thor is promoted three circles lower into Hell (although at the moment he feels like he’s floating).

He's startled out of it as he hears Loki whimper. Loki shifts on his lap.

“What's wrong, Lo? Does it hurt anywhere?” 

Loki says nothing, but he whines and shifts again, grinding the soft pads of his ass harder against Thor’s cock still pumping out the last of his cum against Loki’s back. 

Thor looks down and locks onto the...the little _tent_ in the crotch of Loki's pants.

Meow-Meow’s shadow breaks across the threshold of the family room, and with it her guttural warning snarl.

He swallows, and pulls his hand from Loki's mouth—

“What, right _here,_ Lolo?”

**Author's Note:**

> Where is the light? Wonder  
> if it’s weeping somewhere.
> 
> Same handle on [Tumblr.](http://radiatorfromspace.tumblr.com/)


End file.
